Surviving In A Post-Snowpocalyptic World

Snow. Snow never changes. Since as far back as we can remember, Mother Nature has dictated the when, where, and how we go about or lives in the first months of almost every calendar year. 2010 is no different. I awoke at 7:13 Eastern Standard Time to the sound of my furnace creating an oddly industrial buzzing grind. No sooner did the word “huh” leave my lips had I seen it materialize in the form of wispy white steam. How long was I out? The slight, steady flow of amperage that remained was barely enough to show my eyes the flashing “5:19”, allowing them to deduce that the outage occurred around 2 AM.

Upon collecting myself out of slumber, I rushed my wife and her two blankets into the highest, warmest point left in the now rapidly cooling domicile. My subconcious had gotten the best of me, allowing me to sleep yet another two hours even though I resisted. Afterward, we called family to check their status hoping we could at least count on one of our vehicles to recharge the cellular phones if needed. Crawling out from under the warm sheets, we decided to venture out into the world that was now covered in its own.

Others had begun to emerge from their now defunct dwellings, realizing a common interest. Each was sharing their own stories with the other on how the timeline had transpired for them. Many claimed that the best manner in which to keep warm was to remain digging no matter where or for whom. Most roads were plainly impassable, making employment and other facets of life in this snowmageddon much less important than usual. Funny how things transform so rapidly.

Employment had even less meaning to me as I had been out sick with a “chiropractically diagnosed” sprained neck. As an addendum to that, it only meant that I was given the gift of my spouse’s incessant complaints on clearing the white piles(which I was not able to accomplish myself). Compounded on the fact of having to be punctual for appointments every other day, the pain had consumed my mind to the point in which I did nothing about the low fuel light in my truck.

This situation previously alluded to only became an issue when I had traveled to three fueling stations, each of which boasted red plastic gloves over each pump akin to banners warning travelers to stay away. Could I make it to the “Mom an’ Pop” service station where no one ever fills completely because of the price? I had to take the chance and in the end it had paid off. Only 93 octane remained(and not much of it), so I purchased a “Jackson-worth” in hopes of leaving some for the next Joe that finds this place.

I had to be re-routed on my way back to the homestead, as utility trucks stood steadfast in my path, signaling me back. It seemed that there were more of these trucks than citizens at this point, but that is a positive, I reassured myself. As I completed my “about-face”, a vivid image returned to me.

The parking lot of the local supermarket had been transformed from its usual purpose to a staging area for utility workers, mostly electrical. County officials would swoop in, divide these men into teams, then fly back out. The vehicles were lined row upon row for much of what the eye could take in, as most people were barely shoveled and/or plowed out from their houses.

Once home, a calming relief came over me, knowing that my adventures had come to a close… for today. I clutched my blanket, threw it over my feet, then heard the roar of my furnace coming to life as if it had broken free from its own personal prison. Electricity had returned. What was the first order of business, you ask? I booted Fallout 3. The game as a whole resonated with my day thus far. Now, we have six more inches on the ground. Snow. Snow never changes.

2 comments on “Surviving In A Post-Snowpocalyptic World”

dude im so moving to florida….. this snow is just plain ass man! been stranded @ moms for 3 days now cause for all the national guard and pendot happy time they still cant find where i live and plow a dam road properly!